


Do the tango just for two

by falloutboiruto, ReaperDuckling



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (Not a very sexy fanfic), Comedy, Crack, Denial of Feelings, Dreams, Innuendo, M/M, One Shot, Or More Like, Pre-Relationship, Symbolism, in ur endo, sexy dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 14:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19200931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falloutboiruto/pseuds/falloutboiruto, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaperDuckling/pseuds/ReaperDuckling
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley keep having similar and peculiar dreams. But they don't tell eachother because it's embarrassing, dagnabbit!





	Do the tango just for two

**Author's Note:**

> uh so. hi. me and my friend(reaperduckling) wrote this bc we thought it was hilarious. and IT IS.
> 
> Rated T for sexually suggestive content but nothing actually graphic.

Aziraphale was standing alone in his bookshop, just dusting all of the dusty old books like usual, when Crowley of all people dramatically burst through the front door.

“Hey, Angel. Can you help me pull my trousers down? I’m asking as a _friend. A best friend._ Uh, only if you want to, of course,” Crowley said uncharacteristically bashfully(especially for someone who had just burst into the room with the gusto of a charging bear).

“I would love to pull your trousers off!” Aziraphale responded, throwing his hands out in the air jovially.

He then reached out his hands, that were trembling with both excitements and shaky nerves, and pulled down the fly of Crowley’s black trousers and immediately got hit in the face with an explosion of glitzy glittery confetti.

“Aw, you prepared that just for me?” Aziraphale said, feeling complete ecstasy. He loved confetti. Especially glittery confetti. “You really _do_ love my magic tricks, don’t you?”

“Maybe, wink!” Crowley winked, and Aziraphale _really_ wanted to know what came next but he then regretfully woke up from his nap and promptly regretted taking a nap altogether.

It had all been _a dream._ He didn’t even need to sleep, and his need to dream was very alike to the need for a fish to own a bicycle. He also needed Crowley in the exact same manner, thank you very much. Which was not at all.

A nagging thought in the back of Aziraphale’s mind _nagged_ at him that if he were human, this whole dream would most likely be highly symbolic of _something._ But he wasn’t human at all, so nevermind! It meant nothing! Nothing whatsoever. Feelings, pft! What even were those? It didn't matter if he had to have this internal monologue with himself a thousand times every time he took a nap as he had in the past, he would never give up. And never, ever change his mind about this.

Aziraphale got up from the fancy rococo antique armchair he had fallen asleep in, and went into his kitchen to make some tea. Simple really, put the kettle on boil, pull out two teacups, put bags of tea in both of the cups, pour water in them, realize that he had made _two_ cups of tea instead of just the usual one he needed as a sole, singular person as there was no one else in his apartment/antique bookshop(especially not someone whose name started with _C_ and ended with _Rowley)_ , scream _“No!”_ in utter disgust, pour the contents of the other offending teacup down the drain, wait 2-5 minutes and then drink the _one_ cup of tea in silence while mentally scolding himself.

 

He was never going to even think about this again. Not even in private.

 

-*-

“My dear, would you be so kind as to help me peel this banana? I’m asking as a _friend_ , a _best friend_ ” Aziraphale inquired, batting his eyelashes at him in a bashful manner that made Crowley wonder about the differences in technique required to peel a banana in any other way than friendly.

“Eeehhhm, sure,” he stuttered, before taking the technically-a-berry out of his eternal companion's hands. Where their hands touched, Crowley felt a particularly sparkly spark of sparks spark between them.

Startled, he looked up at Aziraphale, that was giving him an uncharacteristically confident, come-hither smirk. Crowley felt the sudden urge to peel the banana, very, _very_ slowly.

“Did you feel that, old friend?” The angel practically _purred,_ “that sparkly spark of sparks, just now?”

He leaned in close, and for one, dangerously sweet moment, Crowley thought that he might kiss him, but he just removed his sunglasses for him instead.

In the suddenly very bright light, the demon thought that he might actually _see_ the electricity sparking between them. He kept peeling the banana.

Suddenly realizing that he’d left Aziraphale hanging, with a stupidly open and very dry mouth, he stuttered, intelligently:

“Eehm, I mean, the sparkly sparks of ehm, I s-suppose I’m ehm”

“SSSSHHHH” Aziraphale silenced him with a finger mashed comically against his lips, “don’t speak, Crowley. The sparkly sparks that sparked with sparks between us were because of all the _sex,_ my dear. All of the sexy, sexing sex that we are about to engage in.”

“S-s-s-sex?”

“ ** _Sex!_** ”                                                              

Aziraphale took the banana from Crowley’s hands and then continued to shove it down his own throat.

Crowley watched in growing alarm as it went deeper and deeper, and deeper into the angel. Did ethereal beings even have gag reflexes? And how **_long_** was this banana?!

Then, he woke up with a start, clutching at his non-existent heart.

“Oh… oh thank Satan, it was just a dream!”

He stumbled out of the bed, suddenly offended by its very existence. Though Crowley usually enjoyed sleeping, enough so that he’s been known to snooze through a couple of centuries or so, this particular dream had been so harrowing that he’s contemplating never doing it again.

What even… what even _was_ that anyway?

A nightmare, or a s-... s-e…?! He couldn’t even form a comprehensive thought about what just transpired in his mind, it was too alarming, too absurd, simply **unthinkable**! It’s not like he’d ever think about Aziraphale… like… that?

He sat back down on the bed, hiding his face in his hands.

He thought about the almost-kiss. _That_ had been kinda… nice? He supposed. Innocent. Sweet. Just another way to express affection, one best bro to another? Give it another millennia, he might just find the courage to… try that out. Some time.

Crowley heaved a deep, deep sigh.

...

 _Do_ angels have gag-reflexes or can they just… miracle them away?

 

-*-

 

The next day, Aziraphale sat on a park bench and fed the doves. Throwing out pieces of bird-feed, his mind wandered and he thought for the slightest second about confetti as it frankly resembled bird feed a little bit. Not at all in appearance mind you, but the motion of the seeds as they left his hand and sauntered towards the ground was a bit similar to confetti. That also made him think about a certain saunter-y walk...

“ _Ugh,”_ Aziraphale shivered and pushed that train of thought back into the fiery hellish depths of his brain where it belonged.

Suddenly, he heard the uneven, erratic footsteps that he had uncomfortably enough memorized a long time ago coming closer to him.

“Uh,” Aziraphale said awkwardly, staring into the dark lenses of Crowley’s sunglasses.

“Uh,” Crowley responded, also awkwardly. Aziraphale didn’t understand this at all.

“So, the weather is lovely today,”

“I guess,”

Crowley sat down on the bench, next to Aziraphale.

“Can I have some bird feed?” Crowley asked. “I want to feed the doves too. Become an evil influence over them, y’know,”

Aziraphale obliged, and for a second, their hands met. A spark struck.

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave us kudos and comments if you like this! :3


End file.
